Page 12 of A Straight Line

Chapter 3

The Flirtatious Five

Listening to the sound coming from the porch, a cacophony of talking, bickering, and laughing, I could tell who had rung the bell. Vic and Harry didn’t come running to answer the door—not that either was known for sprinting unless absolutely necessary—so I took it upon myself to greet the next round of guests. It struck me funny, as I made my way into the foyer to answer the door, how odd Harry’s and Vic’s friends were. I’d been at their home many times when they threw dinner parties or afternoon barbecues. Everyone always showed up late. There seemed to be a contest to see who could be the most fashionably late queer in all of Littleburg.

If you were to mention that the event they were invited to involved A Straight Line, younger gays, food and drinks, not to mention a performance from Bang Bang, they all wanted to be the first ones to arrive. The ruse was that they all wanted to arrive early to “help out,” but they all really wanted to see and be seen. Harry’s and Vic’s friends knew that any major event they put on for the bar attracted media attention—and all the queers in a hundred-mile radius, if not more. There might be a chance to be interviewed by the nightly news or, at least, the newspaper. There’d be young, hot men to ogle. Food and drinks were a given. None of their friends would miss any of it, even if they were sick in the hospital.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had an iron lung wheeled into the middle of A Straight Line. I thought to myself.

Not to say that Harry and Vic had bad friends or anything. All of their friendships, most of them anyway, had been lifelong. Any of their friends would be there in sickness or loss or happiness and health. They’d just show up twenty or thirty minutes late. That’s all.

As the door swung wide, a rainbow of button-down shirts greeted me. Blue, yellow, orange, purple, and green shone out at me. The green shirt, in particular, caught my attention because it was the same color Uncle Harry had chosen. A wicked grin came to my face as a thought entered my head: Harry will be livid.

Felix, Frank, Fredrick, Floyd, and Phil—sometimes called Phil Number Two so as to not confuse him with Simon’s partner—stood on the front porch, clustered together, every single pair of lips flapping wildly.

The Flirtatious Five. That’s what they were called by everyone else in the community. It was a moniker Bang Bang had given them decades before, I was told. Of course, that hadn’t always set right with Phil. Even though his name started with an “F” sound, it didn’t actually start with one. He had wanted to know why they couldn’t have a group name that was an alliteration that began with a “P.”

Passel of Perverts? Bang Bang had apparently suggested. The Pestilent Pack? “Pigs” starts with a “P,” so maybe—

In the end, The Flirtatious Five moniker had been approved by four of the members with the fifth abstaining from the impromptu vote. Bang Bang had labeled the gang, and the vote had taken place years before I was born, so I had always referred to the group of guys by their collective name as far back as I could remember. It was easier than naming them one by one when greeting them. They all always seemed to be together all of the time anyway.

In fact, no one really seemed to know which members of the group were actually a couple. They’d mingled and dated willy-nilly amongst themselves since the beginning. One week, two of them would be shacking up; the next, there’d be a thruple. Then one would be alone while the other four did their thing. At one point, I think none of them were sure who was supposed to be whose partner. If I had to describe the romantic relationships within the group, I would say it was “fluid.” Recently, I’d heard from Vic in a text he’d sent me a few weeks before I’d come to stay with them, that all five guys were now living in the same assisted living facility. It wasn’t a nursing home by a long shot, just a block of apartments where seniors lived that had assistance in the form of an on-site nurse, cooking and cleaning staff, and plenty of other amenities. The Flirtatious Five were perfectly capable physically and mentally, but if you can afford to live in a place where people cook and clean for you—and will help you out of your recliner—why not, right?

“Hey, guys,” I said.

It took a second, but the bickering and laughing finally tapered off, and all of the guys turned to look at me. Immediately, genuine smiles replaced the scowls they wore for each other, and five pairs of arms were reaching out to pull me in for a hug. At first, I thought that I’d spend quite a bit of time hugging and greeting each of the five, but an awkward group hug ended my worry. All five of the guys started jabbering at me simultaneously so that I couldn’t understand one question or greeting, though I got the jist that they were all happy to see me “after such a long time.”

Felix, short and slender, a slight gay man who somehow always seemed to command attention and respect, even from brawnier types, took charge.

“Russy,” He said, speaking over the rest, “Russy! Shut up, you old hags. Russy. Where are your uncles?”

“In the kitchen,” I said.

I stepped back, swinging the door wide as I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder.

“You should find them in there with Simon and Phil,” I added.

Four of the Flirtatious Five began blathering again as they pushed past me, making their way deeper into the house to find the other four men waiting in the kitchen. Hopefully, they’d all chip in and help Vic and Harry finish any last-minute things for the party, though I knew that Harry and Vic were probably just doing their best to keep Simon out of the food. Felix hung back as his four cohorts squawked and waddled down the long hallway towards the kitchen. Once the rest of the Five were out of the immediate vicinity, Felix’s arm found mine, lacing through the crook of my elbow.

Felix was the most flirtatious of the bunch, and I was a younger man. His favorite. But Harry and Vic were my uncles, so he never came on stronger than was funny.

“Now, Russy,” He cooed, “please tell me there are other handsome young men here besides yourself. I can’t fawn over you all night. Harry and Vic would have my hide. And I’m much too old for you?”

It was a question. Not a statement.

I laughed as I swung the door shut.

“Sorry,” I said, “I’m still holding out for Prince Charming.”

A lump of heat settled in my stomach. I ignored it.

“A shame.” He shook his head, mostly kidding, as I turned us towards the hallway. “I assumed you’d come to your senses one day.”

“I guess I’m just hardheaded, Felix.” I chuckled as I led us slowly down the hallway.

Felix was favoring his right leg, which let me know that he wasn’t getting around as well as he had been the last time I’d seen him. All of the young gay men in Littleburg who had been running from Felix for years would rejoice once word got out.

He patted my hand. “You know I just love to flirt. It’s how we—”